


forever (my love)

by starpupil



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Bisexual Hank Anderson, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Deviant Upgraded Connor | RK900, Gay Connor (Detroit: Become Human), M/M, Power Bottom Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Top Hank Anderson, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name, everyone is human, hankcon - Freeform, no beta we die like men, not so slow-burn, original female character is hank's wife, reed900, rich hank anderson, this is an an au, this is set in italy because cmbyn inspired me but its not like cmbyn at all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-05 03:53:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17911517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starpupil/pseuds/starpupil
Summary: Hank took a deep breath and backed up. “I’m going by myself, then. I don’t know what I’ll do with the other ticket. Stay here, if you want. I don’t care.” The older man went the bedroom to pack, slamming the door behind him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> gonna be my first chaptered fic. i dont know how the updates will be. whenever inspiration strikes me ig.

“Hank! Look! I bought this new dress for the banquet tonight. How does it look?” Eleanor pulled a sequin-covered dress out of one of many designer store bags. Hank quickly glanced at it, going back to his phone. He muttered a “Looks nice.” and went back to his work.

“Thank you, dear.” Hank’s wife’s voice strained as she put it back and retreated to their room to hang up the new article of clothing. She barely whispered her annoyances as she re-entered the living room, picking up her purse and her car keys. “I’m going out shopping. Call if you need anything.”

Hank heard the door slam before he could even respond. Rolling his eyes, the grey-haired man put down his phone and went to grab his laptop. He opened it up to continue what he left off on last night—first class tickets to Rome. He had been wanting to go, get away from the monotony of everyday life, the constant slamming of doors and arguments. It could be a chance for Hank and Eleanor to reconnect. He clicked the “Order” button and closed his laptop, feeling hopeful for the first time in a while.

\---

Laying down in bed, Hank heard the door open and not so quietly close. He watched Eleanor enter their bedroom and collapse onto the bed. He sighed and went to the bathroom, wetting a rag and wiping all the makeup and whatever else off her face.

“Stop it… Get off of me...” Eleanor’s quiet voice rung out, causing Hank to pull away. He put it in the hamper for washing and then went back to bed, turning around on his side away from his wife. 

Hank fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, hoping for the best in his resting state.

\---

Awoken by the smell of bacon and eggs, Hank begrudgingly got out of bed and got dressed for the day. Tying his hair up, he threw his glasses on and went to the dining room. He saw his plate and quickly ate, sparing Eleanor the quickest of goodbyes and leaving for work.

\---

The day went by fast. Hank was a financial manager for a company he’s forgotten the name of. Gavin’s constant harassment never makes it to the higher-ups, and Hank leaves for the day. That’s how his life goes.

Finally pulling up to his house, he sees a man exit from there. Young, good-looking. Disheveled, his hair all messed up. What was he doing inside of Hank’s house? He rushes up to the door and the stranger looks him up and down.

“Good day, sir.” He rushes by and Hank looks on in confusion. He enters the house to see Eleanor just as messy looking, her dress inside out.

Hank didn’t mean to slam the door, it just happened. Eleanor jumped and turned around, eyes widening as she saw Hank. Hank put down his suitcase and took a deep breath in. “Eleanor, who was that?”

“ _Oh._ Oh, he’s just my fitness trainer, Hank. You know that.” She pulled on her collar and started to look mildly uncomfortable. Hank looked Eleanor up and down.

“Sure, hon.” Hank sighed and went to the bathroom to shower and unwind.

\---

Hours later, Hank is sitting on the couch on his laptop. Eleanor is sitting at the dining table and sipping on coffee, seeming to be texting someone.

“Eleanor, I ordered tickets to go to Rome. I thought it would be good to get away somewhere, I don’t know.” Closing his laptop, he took off his glasses and set them on the coffee table.

Eleanor set down her coffee mug and her phone. She tied up her hair into a messy bun that almost fell off her head and pondered it for a second. “I don’t know, Hank. This is a bit sudden. What about work?”

“They need me up there. They can’t afford to lose me, Ellie. They’ll let me vacation as long as I want.” Hank got up, intent on going. With or without Eleanor. He’ll pack tonight and leave tomorrow.

“I have a job too, you know. I can’t just stop, drop, and roll for whatever you want to do!” Eleanor was yelling now, going up to Hank.

Hank was fuming. “You think I don’t know that? I just thought we could take a break for once! We’re always so busy. We never have time for each other anymore—"

“Whose fault is that, Hank? You’re the one who never makes time for anyone! I’m always trying to get things for us to do. Do you _really_ think I’m going to just go on this little escapade with you? I’m sorry, but no.”

Hank took a deep breath and backed up. “I’m going by myself, then. I don’t know what I’ll do with the other ticket. Stay here, if you want. I don’t care.” The older man went the bedroom to pack, slamming the door behind him.

\---

Hank was on the plane early morning. He and Eleanor didn’t utter a word to each other except “Goodbye.” His suitcase was filled with only the bare necessities. He would be there for three weeks, alone. How fun.

Traveling first class was a lonely experience. Surprisingly, not many other old, rich white men were trying to get away from or with their partners. Hank sighed, something he was doing a lot lately, and reclined back in his chair. He would continue to nap the plane ride away, still not dreaming about much of anything.

\---

“Sir? Sir! We’ve arrived in Rome, Italy. Please wake up.” A stewardess woke up the previously asleep man, causing him to get up and grab his bags.

“Uh, thanks.” Exiting the aircraft, Hank pulled his phone out of his pocket and texted the man who was letting him sleep in his house. An Airbnb type of thing. The man was so kind as to let him stay for 3 weeks. It’s not that Hank couldn’t afford a townhome. He just wanted… to meet someone new. And he needed a tour guide, as he didn’t know his way around very well.

The businessman sent a casual text:

  * Can you send me the directions to your house? Also, I never got your name. This is the person you’re letting stay for 3 weeks, by the way.
  * Of course! My name is Connor. I’m looking forward to meeting you, Hank.
  * You too, Connor.



Hank opened the attachment of the address he received and got on his way, it not being too far a walk from the airport. He didn’t know how he would traverse without a car, but he would make do.

Knocking on the door, Hank expected to see an older man answer. Not a young, attractive 20-something year old. He was so taken aback he didn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“Um, excuse me. Are you Hank?” The man’s easy tone of voice was enough to relax Hank, at least. He looked laidback, couldn’t be more than a few years out of college.

“Hi, hi. Yes, I am. Sorry.” Hank dragged his suitcase closer to him, suddenly feeling very overdressed. He was dressed in a suit while what he presumed to be Connor was dressed in nothing more than a flowy, floral t-shirt and some shorts.

“Please, come in.” Connor grabbed Hank’s hand and all but dragged him inside, leading him to the living room. “I can show you your room now, unless you’d like to explore first. I understand if you’re, what do they call it, um...”

“Jetlagged?” Hank offered.

“Yes! Jetlagged,” Connor gave a chuckle and waited walked off somewhere, leaving Hank alone. He wasn’t gone too long to cause Hank to panic, though, coming back only seconds after. Connor was carrying two glasses of what seemed to be some sort of juice. “Here.” He held one out for Hank to take, which Hank gladly did. After seeing Connor take a few sips, Hank followed suit.

“Mm… this is _good._ What is this?” Taking a few more sips, Hank couldn’t help but to drink half of it.

Connor was chuckling again, amused at the sight of Hank chugging down the drink. “It’s only peach juice. I’m sure you have it in the States.”

The older man gave a surprisingly easy laugh and chugged down the rest of the liquid. “Yeah, we do, but none as good as this. Tastes fresh.”

“Oh, that’s because it is. I hadn’t made it too long ago,” Connor took Hank’s glass from him and set it down along with his own. “So, would you like to be taken to your room?”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Embarrassed, Hank followed Connor up some stairs and scratched the back of his head. Going down a hallway, he followed Connor into a basic, empty looking room, save for a bed, desk, and a dresser. There was one window with open blinds shining natural light through, and an old lamp stood in the corner of the room.

“It’s my brother’s room, he stripped it bare when he went to college in the States. That’s why it’s so empty. I’m sorry.” The younger man laughed nervously and walked around the room, patting the desk for no reason.

“It’s fine. I was getting tired of the plain black and white, crowded, cramped room of mine at home anyways. This is a breath of fresh air for me.” Hank set his suitcase down and started to unpack.

“Do you need any help?” Connor offered, ready to help in any way he could.

Hank hesitated in answering for a few seconds. He would feel guilty if he was imposing on Connor in any way. He had been so nice to Hank so far, and he was too cute to be stuck at home helping some old man unpack his small suitcase. “I don’t want to hold you back from doing whatever—"

“No, I’m fine. Please, let me help.” Connor’s puppy-dog eyes were the best he had ever seen. Hank couldn’t bear to say no, even if it would weigh down on his conscious later.

“Ah, sure, why not.”

“Great!”

And so, they spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking and talking. Hank found that he enjoyed Connor’s company for this short period of time more than he had enjoyed anyone’s in a while. This would be the best vacation Hank’s had in a while.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update. it took me all day to write this lmao.

Connor placed the pitcher of peach juice back into his refrigerator, his brown eyes scanning the shelves for anything to make. The emptiness of the fridge made him scrunch up his nose until he noticed the assorted ingredients were barely enough to make grilled cheese, along with fig and cherry.

“I wonder if Hank likes fig and cherry on his grilled cheese…” Connor thought aloud to himself, opening a window and preparing the ingredients to make a late lunch. He covered 4 bread slices with butter and started to make the sandwiches, spilling the sour cherry in the process. Making a mental note to clean it up later, Connor watched the brie cheese fall onto the ground. “ _Dannazione!_ ”

The anguished cry woke up Hank. His eyes widened in surprise, he looked around the room, searching for the cause of such a sound. “Eleanor...?” The older man whispered, not ready for another argument this early in the morning. His long hair fell into his eyes, obstructing his already bad vision. Hank slowly got up and felt his feet touch the cold, unfamiliar floor. His memory slowly came back to him, and Hank felt his way to the living room of Connor’s house, tightly gripping the railing on the stairs. “Uh, Connor? You down there?”

“Oh, good morning, Hank.” Connor turned around, his hair tousled and bent over picking up what seemed to be some spilled red stuff. Hank tried to assess the thing on the floor, but he got distracted over Connor’s bare legs. Doing a double take, Hank moved his hair out of his face and felt red creeping up his neck. Clearing his throat, he tried to find the words to form an actual, coherent sentence.

“Mornin’. Do you uh, need any help over there?” Hank walked over to Connor to find the kitchen a mess, and what seemed to be sloppily made grilled cheeses on the counter.

“Uhm, no, I think I’m— _Fanculo!_ ” A shatter rang out through the house, another jar of sour cherry falling, this time breaking. Connor bent down and unconsciously tried to pick a piece of glass up, cutting himself in the painful process. “Shit! _Figlio di Troia!_ ”

Hank walked over, trying not to laugh at Connor’s foreign swears. He let out a chuckle and walked over to where Connor was, sweeping more hair out of his face with his hand. “Here, I’ll help you. As your guest, I should be helpin’ anyway.” Hank walked past Connor and set his hand on his shoulder. “Where’s the broom and dustpan?”

Bristling under Hank’s touch, Connor all but melted into the warm feeling of the older man’s hand on his shoulder. “It… should be in the closet right in the direction you’re headed.”

“A closet in the kitchen. Huh. Interesting design choice.” Laughing again, Hank took his hand off Connor’s shoulder, feeling something almost lean back into his hand. “You good?” Connor flushed, not believing he tried to do that.

“Oh, um, I’m fine. I’ll go clean this cut up. Thank you so much.” Hank watched the younger, brown-haired man exit out of the kitchen and heard him go up the stairs.

Connor walked up the stairs, making his way to his room. He rushed to the bathroom, opening his medicine cabinet and grabbing a band-aid, turning the handle for warm water. “ _Merda._ Fuck,” Connor whispered, running his cut finger under the water and drying it off. He dabbed it with a rag and applied the band-aid. He closed the bathroom door and sat down on his bed, rubbing his legs together.

Connor thought of Hank coming down the stairs, hair messy and dressed only in a pair of boxers, an obviously too small tank top adorning his muscular build. Connor felt something fester and grow in the bottom of his stomach, reaching up to his heart and taking hold of it. It traveled throughout his body, going to his dick. He reached for his bedside drawer and dug some lone lube from it, it had to at least be a few months from expiring. Connor pulled his boxers down, continuing to open the cap of the lube and lube up his fingers. The brown-haired man took in a deep breath and relaxed, slowly entering his fingers into his ass, pumping them slowly. He imagined Hank’s cock, unknown to Connor’s mind sadly, entering him, filling him to the brim.

“God, fuck, Hank...” Whispers filled his room, trying to muffle the moaning that stumbled and fell out of Connor’s mouth. His fingers brushed his prostate, causing him to almost yell out in such pleasure. Tears filled his eyes and he leaned over, trying to quiet down. The dim light shining in bounced off Connor’s many freckles cascading down his shoulders and legs. “ _Oh--!_ ” Connor pumped faster, a rich orgasm making him lay back, panting as the strand of hair that always fell out, a cowlick of sorts, laid on his face.

\---

Hank Anderson was a simple man. If he wanted something, he got it. And by god, did he want that peach juice. He wanted the peach juice so much that he poured himself a cup of it and said something along the lines of; “Oh, Connor is so hospitable. I’m sure he won’t mind if I just...” That ended up turning into Hank drinking the whole pitcher. “Fuck! Shit! I am so fucked!” Hank desperately tried to make up for his mistake. He cleaned the dishes he used, set them back where he thought they went and then resorted to going upstairs to read his book. He slowly crept to his room, only to hear what sounded like moaning coming from another room.

Hank tied his hair up with a loose hair tie dressing his right wrist and crept down the hallway. He turned to where the strained noises were coming from, and instantly flushed at the sight of Connor, legs splayed open on the bed, fingering himself like there was no tomorrow.

“Hank…” At the sound of his own name, Hank perked up. Connor’s moans and accent were music to his ears, his knees buckled a bit. It had been a long time he had anyone say his name like that. He watched Connor lay back, sweaty and breathing hard. Hank felt his own dick rise, but he turned around and went back to his room, opting for a cold shower instead.

\---

A few days pass by, Hank touring Rome aimlessly, just taking in the sights. Connor and Hank having short and simple conversations. Connor could never make eye contact with Hank and Hank could never stop staring at Connor’s freckles.

“You ever try to count your freckles, Connor?” Hank asked one day, feeling particularly bold. He was sipping on some more of Connor’s perfect peach juice. They were sitting outside in the back of Connor’s home, a pool and some patio tables adorning the area.

Hank was relaxed for the first time in a while, sitting in only a billowy t-shirt and some shorts, trading in his usual black Oxfords for some sandals. Hank watched Connor walk to sit with Hank, the brown-haired man’s legs captivating him like always.

 Hank had asked the question, but he knew the answer pertaining to himself. Hank was always trying to count Connor’s freckles. Ever since that day.

“Of course. I and my brother always counted each other’s freckles when we were younger. He got to 108 once, but I always lost count.” Connor said, pulling out a chair to sit at the same table as Hank. A chuckle escaped his pink lips as he sipped on his own straw, enjoying the sweet juice coursing down his throat.

Hank looked at Connor, fascinated by this man who had let him into his home and treated him as if he were a friend. Hank was sure he had misheard that day—there was no way Connor had been thinking of him. Hank had simply intruded on a private moment that day, and let his own, secret fantasies take over his rationality. He barely knew Connor, anyways. Hank could change that, though. He would change that. These weeks were his, and his alone, to enjoy.

“I never knew you had a brother, Connor. Tell me about him, if I’m not pryin’ or anything.”

Connor looked at him. Looked at him so deeply, so great, it felt like he was seeing right through Hank. Seeing right through this old man who was trying to form a connection with his more than kind host.

“Of course, you’re not prying, Hank. His name is Richard. He lives in the States right now. He’s going to college in, um, one of those fancy schools. I don’t know the name, _fammi pensare_ , um…” Connor took a few seconds to think, trying to remember the name his brother had told him. “It’s on the tip of my tongue...”

 “CONNOR! CONNOR!” An unknown voice was yelling down the sidewalk, running down the street.

“Kamski…? Excuse me, Hank.” Connor got up and went out of the fence in the backyard, going to talk to the stranger of Hank’s. Hank sighed and went back inside, going upstairs to his room. He checked his phone and saw texts from Eleanor a few days ago. They varied from “I don’t think you should come home expecting to sleep in our bed.” And “I hope your little getaway is going well.” The businessman sighed again and put his phone away. Resorting to going back downstairs, the last thing Hank was expecting was to be greeted by a huge Saint Bernard running at him at what seemed to be like 100 miles per hour.

“ _Oh FUCK_ —" Getting tackled by the bear-like dog, Hank’s face twisted in disgust as he felt the dog licking him.

“Hank, I am so sorry. Sumo! Bad dog, Sumo.” Hank felt his face getting wetter by the minute as he felt the dog being forcefully wrangled off him. He stood up and wiped his face with his arm, opening his eyes to see himself face to face with a shorter Connor. “Again, I am so sorry—” Hank felt his legs give out when the dog ran through them, causing him to fall on top of Connor.

“Ah, shit, I got you, Connor—!” Hank felt a knee between his legs, holding himself up with his arms. He was sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him when he saw a slight red creep onto Connor’s face. “You okay?”

Connor swallowed and kept still. He cleared his throat and took a breath in. “I’m, ahem, fine. Are you…” Connor sat up, Hank following suit. They were still entangled, their faces close in proximity.

“Connor, I…” The gap almost closed, their breathing in sync. Hank was looking at Connor’s lips, how soft and pink they looked. His calloused hands, Connor could feel, were slowly moving and feeling around.

“Yes, Hank?” Connor whispered. If any lower Hank couldn’t have been able to hear. The gap between them was about to be eliminated to none until…

**_BOOF!_ **

The dog registered as “Sumo” by Connor sat down with a resounding noise on top of them, filling the gap for them. He let out a bark and licked both Hank and Connor on the face. Connor’s laugh echoed through the house as he set up to Sumo’s height and pet him. “Who’s a good boy? You are! You’re a good boy.” Connor baby-talked Sumo so much Hank stood up and couldn’t help but to laugh.

“When was I going to get to meet that monster?”

“He’s not a monster, Hank. He’s my baby boy. My _orgoglio e gioia_. I was trying to get Kamski to keep him over the three weeks so you wouldn’t be bothered, but apparently his wife Chloe came home. She hates dogs.” Connor continued, still petting Sumo.

Hank looked at Connor and back to Sumo and back to Connor. He sighed, not out of stress, but out of the thought of sharing the house for the rest of his vacation with a hulk-sized dog. “I love dogs. I used to have one when I was younger.” He sat down and pet Sumo with Connor.

“Do you want to walk him with me, then?” Connor looked at Hank with such big, hopeful eyes.

Hank easily gave in, though he didn’t know why. “I—of course, Connor.”

Connor smiled, going to grab the leash. “Let’s go, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> connor: *literally says "hank"*  
> hank: nah he said hunk wdym


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope the pacing in this fic is good lmao!! enjoy this chapter its my blood, sweat, & tears

Hank was sitting in bed, watching the sunrise. The palette of pink, blue, and purple scattered across the sky gave him a warm feeling inside. It was only yesterday that Connor’s dog, Sumo, had appeared into his life and gave him another piece of Connor to hold. When did the sudden fascination with Connor appear, Hank didn’t know. All he knew was that it was there, growing, spreading.

The sound of padding up the stairs caused Hank to turn his head, watching Sumo come in and sit down by his legs. He moved his hand to pet Sumo’s head, the fur sifting through his fingers.

A chuckle escaped from Hank’s lips as he stood up, stretching to prepare for the early morning. Sumo’s whimper from Hank’s hand being pulled away made the grey-haired man laugh, giving Sumo another quick pat on the head.

“Ah, fuck...” Hank exited his room, heading down the stairs. He didn’t see Connor anywhere. Not in the kitchen, not in the living room. The older man even ran back up the stairs, checking the rooms. Hank stopped when he saw Connor through the crack of a door, sleeping with a leg dangling off the bed. Slowly entering, he shook Connor on the shoulder. “Connor?”

“Mm… Hank?” A sleepy eye peered open on Connor’s newly awaken form, looking Hank up and down. “Is that you?” Connor slowly but surely sat up, stretching his legs and arms, and anything else that needed stretching. He let out a long, early-morning yawn and stood up, going up to Hank.

“Shit. Sorry if I woke you up, Connor. You can head back to sleep if ya need to—”

Connor slowly walked up to Hank and pressed a kiss to Hank’s cheek, having to get up on his toes to do so. It was soft and sweet, chaste if one could call It that. Too brief for Hank’s liking—even though it felt like an eternity before it stopped.

Pulling away too soon in Hank’s opinion, the brown-haired host stood down to his natural height and slightly nodded. “No, no, I’m fine. Good morning.” With that, he walked off, presumably downstairs.

Hank stood there for a few seconds. And then some more seconds. He held his hand up to where Connor put his lips and then held that for a few more seconds. “Fuck me, I’m too old for this shit.” Hank’s face turned slightly red as he turned around and exited the bedroom.

\---

“Hank, you did want to see some sights, correct?” Connor was up cooking a late breakfast with Hank’s help, his disregard for the time of the day eating at his conscious. _Oh well, exceptions can be made._ He thought to himself, bumping into Hank. He instantly grabbed a nearby towel and started dabbing at Hank’s lackluster t-shirt. “Nice choice in _pigiama_ , by the way.” Connor chuckled and suddenly noticed Hank’s hand holding onto his, stopping the wiping.

“I’ll assume you’re talking about my t-shirt,” Hank looked down and moved the rag off him, bending down to get close to Connor’s ear. “I was about to change anyway.” He felt a hand on his arm, thin fingers wrapped around and trailing up. Moving his face to meet Connor’s eyes, he saw a dazed look dressing the shorter man’s face. “Connor?”

“Hank, please correct me if I do anything wrong. I won’t be offended.”

“I—huh—Connor--?”

Hank felt the presence of Connor’s lips on his, just as soft as he thought they were. He ran his rough hands up Connor’s thin waist, pulling him close. Hank felt the thin fingers of the man pulled to him run through his hair, sifting through it, causing Hank to relax into the kiss more and more. This moment he and Connor were sharing, was so precious, so special.

Hank knew why he was fascinated with Connor, his sudden infatuation. He wanted everything to do with Connor, wanted to get to know every inch of his being and soul. Every freckle on his perfectly sculpted body, his interests, his family. Give Hank every detail so he can snatch them all and never let go. Damn the time he knew him, it’s only the time to come that matters.

Hank felt Connor pull away, but he moved his hands to hold Connor’s head, gently. “Don’t—unless you want to.”

Connor pulled away a little, moving to hold Hank’s hands, tracing the outline of them. “I don’t. _Signore_ , I don’t and that scares me. Hank, it scares me.” Hank held onto Connor with all his might, wrapping his arms around the brown-haired man.

Hank didn’t have to say anything. He held Connor close for what felt like hours—even if it was only minutes. They shared warmth and comfort, just standing.

“Connor, I’m—”

“You’re married. I know.” Reluctantly, Connor pulled away, sighing in a way he had no business to. He didn’t deserve any stress or hardship—god, Hank just wanted Connor to float above everything. He wanted to leave his old life back in Detroit behind.

He moved closer to Connor, debating on whether he should even do that or not. Hank wanted to hold him in his arms and tell him everything would be alright.

“You might not want… that stress. I understand and totally respect that, Con. How did you know?”

“The _squillare_ , ring. I saw it on your finger. It was hard to miss.” Crossed arms closed Connor off. Hank watched him pace around the room. The pacing stressed Hank out too, causing him to sit down on one of the chairs close to the kitchen table, splaying his hands out on the table. “I _like_ you, Hank. I know it might be... _weird_. I know you might not even be gay or—”

“I’m bisexual. Me and my wife just... we don’t talk about it. I don’t know, I... came out a few years ago. Close family, friends.” He sighed. That damn sigh. It popped up in the weirdest places. It was supposed to stay out of Connor, though.

Connor’s eyes softened towards Hank. He sat down and placed his hand on top of Hanks, gently. “Oh, Hank.” It came out as a whisper for both to hear. “Look, I… I don’t know if you’re interested in me, Hank. You probably aren’t and I don’t want to put any pressure on you but—2 weeks.”

Hank looked up.

“2 weeks. Your choice, I just—Hank, I’ve never liked anyone as much as you. God, I haven’t. I haven’t known you for that long but, _cazzo_ , I just get this feeling whenever I’m around you and—”

Before Connor could even get his sentence out, Hank came with “Yes. Yes. Connor, god, yes.” Connor smiled and got up, eyebrows raised as Hank picked him up and spun him. Connor slipped his arms around Hank and kissed him, so hard it knocked Hank back a little. Hank gave in to the kiss, feeling Connor up wherever he could. The kiss was chaste and lustful, somehow both at the same time. Everything they had been wanting to say and do to each other put into this one romantic gesture.

“You mind takin’ this upstairs?”

Connor laughed, setting his hands in Hank’s soft head of hair. “I don’t mind at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> connor (dropped smthn on his foot): fuck me!   
> hank: okay  
> connor:  
> hank:  
> richard:  
> gavin:  
> amanda:  
> quantic dream:  
> sony:  
> usa:  
> italy:  
> connor: take me upstairs then. tf are u waiting for

**Author's Note:**

> eleanor: you're selfish!  
> hank: yOUrE sELfIsH


End file.
